Memory's touch
by eriesalia
Summary: At the root of memories may lie something else entirely and in meetings, the start of something new. Post-jinchuu & kaden - featuring Megumi, Aoshi, Kenshin, Hiko, and others
1. The call of the past

* * *

******Memory's Touch**  
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan mindspring dot com   
Standard disclaimer applies. 

Events begin at the Kaden manga epilogue, several years after the end of the Jinchuu arc.

* * *

Her eyes followed the movement of the wind in the trees, pretending to only be observing the progress of the white and pink blossoms that had so brilliantly bloomed and yet were slowly dying.

She was looking there, rather than at him.

It was safer to look up there, than at the man who after all these years still unsettled her with his presence.

Aoshi Shinomori sat next to her. Why she did not know -- other than when he and Misao had shown up at their picnic that it had seemed entirely logical that he do so. Even then, she wished it not so. For she was remembering things that were unnerving.

His hand on her wrist. Fingers that had rested on her cheek.   
Memories that should have faded.  
Memories of his touch.

Granted, they were not memories made under the most pleasant of circumstances. But the passage of time had muted and softened her recollection of those encounters with him.

He had threatened her life once, and only once. And she had no reason to believe he wouldn't deliver on that threat when he had suddenly appeared that spring day at the dojo, and demanded to know the whereabouts of the Battousai. After all, he was the Okashira of the Oniwaban group -- one of the most deadly groups that had fought along side the Tokugawa regime in the Bakumatsu. She could not be blamed for cowering when she should have stood up and fought him, but at least she was not the one to bend, to yield cowardly and tell him of Kenshin's whereabouts despite his threats.

Whether it was courage or that she never had feared death that made her defy him, she did not know..

But in that instant where he had touched her cheek, she had sensed his hesitation. Even if he could have been called almost insane -- he had hesitated. Somewhere buried beneath that anger was the man who had never once laid a finger on her while she had been imprisoned at Kanryuu's Somewhere he was the man who had given her a knife so she could choose her means of living or dying.

That moment of hesitation on his part, the understanding regarding it that came to her later, and Shinomori's assistance to Kenshin in his battle against Shishio were enough for her to be able to tolerate his presence when she briefly saw him in Kyoto. It was his later assistance to Kenshin against Enishi that had allowed her to forgive him. Enough so that she never mentioned what happened that day he had threatened her to any of those in the dojo.

It had remained -- like many of the things that had taken place between them -- a secret.

And now as she saw him again after such a long time, she idly wondered what would have happened that day if Saitou had not made his presence known --had Saitou not shown up and given Shinomori the information he had desired?

Would Aoshi have killed her truly?

She allowed herself to glance his way and puzzled over the mass of memories for a little while longer, before Kenji was placed in her arms.

Megumi was quiet as they all walked back to the dojo, reflecting on life in a way she had not for five years. She paid no heed to Misao and Kaoru, who were predictably loud and cheerful. And she was unaware of just how full Kenshin's hands were with Kenji.

As afternoon moved slowly into dusk, she found herself recalling a night long ago -- when Ayame and Suzume had dragged her down this road to tend to a patient and with Sanosuke grumbling as he followed them to the train station. It had been the last night before Kenshin disappeared; it had been a night that had crushed all of them.

In that same road today, Megumi stumbled.

This time a steady hand caught her. As she murmured her thanks, she was forced to look into his eyes again and remember what had come shortly after. Again -- their encounter in the dojo. She averted her eyes and fought frustration as she realized he was still holding her arm as she continued to walk.

'You're old, Megumi,' she forced herself to laugh in her mind. '--So old that people need to be helping you cross the street.'

And with that, she shook off her reverie and forced herself to become the Megumi that had been the fixture of this dojo five years ago. She cooked, served and teased as mercilessly as she used to, knowing full well that by tomorrow evening she would be on her way back to Aizu and safe from the things that had bothered her. If anyone thought her too silly, she could always blame the sake for that -- as well as for the hug that she had given Yahiko that made him blush furiously and Tsubame blink nervously. That and the heat from the kitchen where she had spent most of her time before dinner.

After Yahiko and Tsubame had left, she had excused herself from the table. The others were tired and deliriously sated. They did not notice anything amiss when she shooed the women away and began clearing the remnants of their dinner on her own.

"I want to do it," she had smiled. And she had truly wanted to do it. For busyness kept the memories at bay.

As did Kenji.

After she had cleared the meal, she played with him, spoiling him really, as the other women bathed and the two men had disappeared to discuss something. Likely Hokkaido. She did not mind not being part of either experience. She had wanted some quiet to herself, for as much as she loved her friends, she had long become used to more solitary habits in her life in Aizu.

She bid Misao and Kaoru a cordial evening before she disappeared into the bathhouse and thought of nothing. Even long after the water had cooled, she lingered there -- emptying herself of the things that had bothered her. By the time she finished, the dojo had grown dark.

Despite that, she chose to sit outside and wait for a warm breeze.

When it came, she closed her eyes and hummed a soft tune, while her fingers untangled her wet hair.

And somewhere later when the tune had ended, she heard the quiet step on the porch and instinctively turned her head.

As she looked up, she found Aoshi towering over her. As she looked into his eyes, she felt a brief moment of confusion and stiffened slightly, in a way that was misunderstood.

"Takani-sensei?" He had crouched down by her now.

Idiotically, she said nothing. She could say nothing—stuck somewhere between now and the past.

When his hand touched her face, she did not shudder or withdraw. She was again powerless.

And more than that -- she was suddenly aware of the tension– of the existence of something undefinable between them now as it had existed then. It was something which neither had ever spoken of before, and which she was now almost certain Saitou had misunderstood when he interrupted the two of them that day six years ago.

"Megumi Takani." He tried again.

Not knowing what else to say, she could only responsd with his name. "Shinomori-san."

"Forgive me," he said.

_Forgive. Wasn't it already late for that? _"I already have." She managed to choke out. "It need not be said— "

"I'm glad, " he closed his eyes briefly. "But not for the past."

"Then for what?"

"For this." She felt suddenly confused as his hand moved from the side of her face to the back of her head.

And then she felt his hand exert gentle pressure, guiding her mouth to his.

As she tasted his lips, it was then she finally understood. That undefinable tension -- the awkward silences -- she may have respected him, even feared him, but behind all that she had been attracted to him – as he to her.

Her hands were in his hair, and his now around her waist… and in the back of her mind she half heard the laughter of Saitou echoing its amusement at her assessment and at their behavior now as if he were standing there watching them, as he had that day in the dojo. At that, she had to pull away. "No," she stated.

He stood suddenly and turned away, resting his arm on one of the posts that supported the porch. They both had to sit for a moment to think upon what had happened.

Finally he spoke. "I'm sorry. It was inappropriate—"

_Inappropriate?_ She found that phrase almost so overwhelmingly out of character for the man who never did anything he thought inappropriate. But despite that -- she found her fingers catching hold of the back of his yukata. Her mind was foggy, slow to think. "It's not that." The words came out without thought "--Not out here."

As he turned back to her, she saw a sudden light in his eyes – a light that both frightened her and made her blood race. Before she could utter another word, he picked her up and carried her inside the dojo.

This time -- the door was pulled shut.

_..._

_   
  
A wise man once stated that memories were nothing more than dreams waiting to be relived … or rewritten._

_A pragmatic woman once answered. "Maybe ... or maybe not."_

* * *

**Authors notes (v3): **The premise of attraction is a bit odd to consider unless one reads into the manga a bit more carefully. If you visit the URL in my profile and pull up "speculations" you'll see that there are odd nuances to the Aoshi/Megumi dynamic. Most fics don't start with the idea of attraction -- a kiss and something more but end with it. That said, this story isn't all romance. It is the give and take of these personalities that is the interest for me in this fic; that and the theme of misunderstanding and memories, regret and hope. Something hopefully like what MiJ wanted -- a quiet drama. 

The core of the story, however, is still Kenshin. He is the reason for all these persons to interact; exactly why is explained in the next two chapters.

This does not belong to the same continuity as the other stories. It is a divergent storyline, whose only similarity is that it begins where the manga ends. Personalities differ slightly -- interactions as well.


	2. Onigiri

* * *

**Memory's Touch**  
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan @ mindspring dot com   
Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

onigiri = rice ball. This is typically prepared like sushi rice, and shaped in various shapes and with varying compositions. 

* * *

  
Impetuousness was not one of his ruling characteristics. And yet, at the very moment it seemed that he was mistaken in that assumption. Otherwise, how could he explain the reason for the situation at hand? 

Memories had brought them to this point. Memories and -- he admitted -- a deep seated attraction. They had led him to kiss her and when she appeared to reciprocate, to pull her into the dojo. By the time his mind had caught up with his body, his hand had already found its way to her waist and the tie that cinched her yukata. It was then that he removed his hand from her waist and pulled back. 

At the sudden break in contact, she had opened her eyes and touched her swollen lip. Somewhat startled, she looked up at him. 

A half second later, she began laughing. 

It was unexpected to say the least. If he were sensitive, he might have been offended. It was unclear whether she was laughing at the awkwardness of the situation, out of her own nervousness, or for some other reason.

He should have said something when she stood up and smoothed the front of her yukata, but despite his years of training, none of it had equipped him for dealing with situations like this. Moreover, not one of the many lessons his elders had tried to teach him had ever covered the issue of dealing with women, particularly one like this – who unpredictably answered his silence by leaving.

As her footsteps faded down the porch, he closed his eyes and forced himself to try to meditate – to clear out the confusion that had apparently taken hold on him, and to think on the consequences of what he had done.

After a few moments, he concluded that this effort was fruitless. 

He was at a complete loss.

He had eluded women for much of his life; they had been largely incompatible with the lifestyle he had chosen for himself for more than half of it. From the time he had become Okashira until the end of the Revolution, the only women in his life had been the ones in the clan under his authority and leadership. All he had cared for then was to give them the training they needed to survive and to instill in them a code of honor that would serve them in a life of battle. No other women had a place in it.

Megumi Takani was the first woman he had more than a passing familiarity with after that time had ended. And perhaps therein, lay the basis of the beginning of the explanation for their attraction.

His relative idleness in his time at Kanryuu's –- made him notice her. Her history of course, had been explained rather crudely by Kanryuu, but his research and familiarity with the Aizu clan (who were allied with the Tokugawa shogunate) filled in the rest of the details. 

Unwittingly, he had done so not just to better serve Kanryuu (for any employee of Kanryuu was a potential threat to his client), but to satisfy his curiousity.

Still – nothing had ever become of that. It was not until he had the benefit of years of thinking and self-examination that he had seen how many of actions had been seeded with inconsistencies.

Regardless – he was dwelling too much on his own motives. It did not excuse that he was largely responsible for the situation. He was the one who had always been an example of self-control and thought. He should not have been swayed by the beauty of the day, and should have distanced himself from her, particularly after the other inhabitants and guests of the dojo had retired.

But it had been her song that he had been unable to resist. Not the tune itself, but of a side of her that had never been known to him. Her eyes closed, her head tilted – the look of utter peace on her face at that moment had been something too tempting to ignore. 

Obviously, his five years of meditation and restraint had not been enough. He had been swayed by his altered view of the past, too affected by the present moment, and not thinking of the future.

He was a foolish man.

  
~

The sound of laughter was a common fixture in this household it seemed. From the kitchen, there was quite a bit of it – although muffled due to the time of day.

Habit brought him over to see what was going on. As he neared the door, he stopped for a moment to listen.

"Ken-san!" A female voice was exultant. "You've been practicing behind my back haven't you? And yet you have the ingredients all wrong."

"Miss Megumi was not here to teach us--" was the laughing reply.

"And the shape of these as well— Kenji certainly has his way with all of you, doesn't he?"

This picture of domesticity – or at least a glimpse of what it might have been like long past – was something he had never really seen. He had been here at the dojo only a few times really. There was the one fateful encounter where he had come across Takani alone, and the time he had come after Kaoru had disappeared and Kenshin had wandered off. It had been four of them then – Yahiko, Megumi, Misao and himself. 

And it had never been like this.

Aoshi did not like to eavesdrop – but he found himself standing outside the doorway regardless. 

"To think Kenji will grow up thinking that all onigiri are supposed to be served this way. Think of the years of embarrassment in store for him—"

Kenshin sounded worried. "When you say it that way – "

"And with Misao and Shinomori-san here as well – I'm certain that your Aoiya guests would never tolerate such odd shaped onigiri—"

The formal manner with which she stated his name jarred him. His attention lapsed for a moment, long enough for Himura to suddenly become aware of his presence. 

Kenshin cleared his throat loudly. "Shinomori-san won't mind, will you?" 

The former Battousai had indeed found him out. With that, he was forced to step forward and inside the kitchen and face the both of them.

Megumi said nothing, but the flicker of embarrassment that crossed her face told him to tread cautiously. 

As for Himura – he was a perceptive man. He had seen the look as well, but wisely said nothing. Instead, he thrust out a tray in Aoshi's face. "Aoshi-san won't mind, will he?" Himura smiled again more quietly.

He deliberately looked down at the tray that Kenshin had held out and now saw the root of the controversy between the two meal-preparers. Onigiri of every shape imaginable– with eyes, whiskers, tails made out of nori, pine nuts, dates, and mostly anything that was in season and available at the market.

And he could see the reason why the doctor had protested. It appeared that Himura, in his absent-mindedness had not considered that perhaps his adult guests might prefer their breakfast to not look so happy while being eaten.

"I'll make another tray," Megumi interjected hastily. 

"There is no need to." The inconvenience to her and the waste of ingredients alone was reason enough to tolerate Himura's odd creation.

"But I will—" she seemed a bit annoyed by his interference in the matter. "And I'll take some of those with me to keep me company on the ride home."

"Well then," Himura smiled a bit too easily. "I'll let Aoshi-san help you then while I see if Kenji is awake. We can continue our other conversation later."

And then suspiciously, before she could fully voice her protest, he had disappeared.

She turned away then to pick up a bottle of rice vinegar to add to the pot of rice at her fingertips. "I don't need your help, Shinomori-san."

_Shinomori-san._ The emphasis had been on the –san. 

"You are leaving." 

"Of course I am," she kept her back to him as she focused her attention on mixing the rice with vinegar. "I've patients to attend to back home."

"Megumi—" he decided to be boldly informal with her. "This is something I'm not familiar with—"

"I know." 

"Is there someone I should speak to?"

At that, she stiffened. Finally, she answered. 

"The fact that you have to ask who to ask, shows that what you have in mind is completely wrong, Shinomori-san." She finally turned around, her expression bemused. "Even if something further had happened – the reality of the situation is that our directions have shifted. Last night—" she looked off to the side, "I was overwhelmed by memories of the past. But morning brings logic and reason back to the table. Beyond just knowing nothing about the life I lead now – you don't even know that something as simple as onigiri could bother me. It's the little things that matter."

"Megumi—"

"Please, Shinomori-san. Misao will be looking for you. Let me finish this on my own."

And with her little speech on onigiri concluded, Aoshi realized that the most honorable solution he had come up with was being firmly rejected. Unlike him, she did not wish to understand or resolve what had happened.

~ 

Himura and his family had seen Megumi off to the station. Given the circumstances, he had chosen to stay behind and observe the students who Yahiko was putting through their paces.

When they had returned, Misao found him with a tray of tea in hand and like her usual cheerful self, talked of all that they had seen and the innumerable ways that the sensei had teased Kaoru along their way.

"Kaoru was at her wit's end trying to not laugh or scream at Megumi-sensei," Misao giggled. "Especially when Megumi-sensei suggested that Kaoru wasn't feeding Kenji enough and that she would take him with her to Aizu."

At that, he had to shake his head. There was an odd dynamic between the two women – one he thought he understood, and other times—not.

"Perhaps she misses the Himuras more than she admits."

"Of course she does," Misao related cheerfully. "But she'll see Himura soon enough anyways –"

As casually as he could manage, he took a sip of tea. "Takani-sensei is returning to Tokyo?"

"No," her face changed slightly. "Himura and Megumi-sensei are coming to Kyoto. He wants to pay a visit to his own master."

It took him a moment to recover. Thankfully, Misao did not notice the sudden lapse of apparent calm he worked hard to cultivate and reflect. 

"Of course, I've invited them to stay at the Aoiya, although Himura did say that he and the doctor would likely spend time with his teacher. Himura and Megumi-sensei wouldn't say more than that – in front of Kenji."

The earlier hint of an unfinished conversation between Himura and the doctor. A sudden visit to Kyoto. The meaning behind Misao's words became suddenly more clear. 

Years ago, Megumi Takani—as both Himura's friend and doctor -- had told all of them the shocking news of Kenshin's inevitable deterioriation. 

The man who could understand it most was the man who had isolated himself outside Kyoto.

The visit would not be a social one by any means.   
  


* * *

  
a/n: crosses fingers. The perspective of Aoshi dramatically changes the tone of this piece. And the question of why things happened the way it did is not entirely clear, is it? 

  
-The rejection of Aoshi's proposal has someting to do with a conversation that CherieDee and I had. Mostly thinking of evil things we could do as fic writers. This is one of them.   
-Regarding Aoshi... I still think he is a largely sensible man. But he is a man. Sometimes his head lags behind his passion -- if it were always the case that he were completely logical and sensible, his whole chasing Kenshin around thing would have never happened. ^_^ . So fear not Aoshi lovers, I am exploiting only a certain tendency I find interesting.   
-Considering which perspective to take next. Perhaps not either of the two main characters, but of another. And yeah, I figure to keep consistent with old habits, the title might change. You better remember my name :-).   
-Shimizu Hitomi - I don't read the Japanese fanfics. I get too dizzy after seeing BLessing and Green over and over again. I was referring mostly to the fanarts ^_^   
-mij - I'm chanting "quiet drama, quiet drama" over and over again like a mantra so I'm not tempted to whip out some kind of action scene.   
-CherieDee - Bad Megumi? Bad Aoshi.   
-Trupana and April... you asked for it, but now you know it's not going to be WAFF. heh.   
-Eevee - whee! back to having conversations in reviews!  



	3. Meetings

* * *

**Memory's Touch**: Part 3 - Meetings  
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan @ mindspring dot com   
Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

"Will you watch Kenji for me?" 

Megumi looked up at the seat across from her, somewhat startled by the gentle request. 

But as she saw Kaoru's head drooping on Kenshin's shoulder she understood and took the sleeping child into her arms.  
Poor Kaoru's face was troubled. And if anything, this was her fault. Had she not been so observant, or insistent, none of them would be on this torturous train ride. 

  
The journey to Kyoto was already long. Not as long to her as the one she had made five years ago, when Kenshin had faced Shishio and had lain, gravely ill. She remembered her impatience then to be there – to tend to the man that she had heard was gravely injured and that she had loved deeply.

That trip had indeed cost her much. She had realized then Kenshin's fallibility. She had seen the extent of his injuries and the lengths he was willing to fight for what he believed. She had warned Kaoru even then to watch him. And during that same trip, she had wisely given up her romantic feelings for Kenshin.

But she still cared for him immensely. His health and well-being to her were always her primary concern. She did not mince words that one day in the dojo when she told a shocked audience about Kenshin's deterioration – and that he would lose his abilities over time. She had done so to make sure that they would not allow him to overstep the limits of his body; and to ensure he would have the life of peace he deserved.

Kenji's birth – in its own ironic way – relieved her and likely others. It showed that his health at least in good enough condition to father a child. And a child would keep Kenshin firmly rooted at the dojo, at least for a time. 

And five years had come and gone – and Kenshin had looked well. But in the back of her mind, she also felt that suspicion – that there were also signs of change. The thing that she did not know, even Kenshin himself, was how much more was to come and how quickly. 

Hiko Seijuro the Thirteenth would know, she was certain. 

The man who had taught Kenshin the Hiten Mitsurugi Style and was still its master would have to. 

Kenji shifted slightly in her arms, his head finding a more comfortable place under the crook of her neck. She felt a queer sense of contentment in the way he had appeared to accept her. And yet, she regretted that he and his mother had come. 

None of them really spoke of the real reason they were coming to Kyoto. It was, on the surface nothing more than a fun trip -- for all of their sakes. But Kaoru knew – Megumi had warned her so many times in the past of Kenshin's limits – and therefore, was not fooled one bit by the promise of finally receiving the grand tour that Okina had promised years back.. 

And now that they traveled as a group of four, they could not avoid the inevitable invitation that would come from Misao to stay at the Aoiya. She would preferred to stay at the Shirobeko, with Sae – but Misao had insisted, and Kaoru was only happy to accept the invitation on all of their behalf.

She could have opted to go her own way -- but that would have raised more questions from those she did not wish to burden further at this time and it would have acknowledged the fact that she did in fact have a problem facing him.

She was a pragmatic woman. And she had become better over the years of masking her own feelings. But the truth was that several weeks had not erased the overwhelming feeling of excitement at being held in someone's arms and the cold reality of the truth. And that was – even rational, reasonable people experienced serious lapses in logic.

She was certain he knew that as well… and that her dismissal of his proposal had quenched whatever notions he had of behaving according whatever noble dogma he held in mind regarding women. 

She would rely on logic to make sure that mistake did not happen again.

  
~

For three days she was able to succeed in avoiding him.

But on the fourth day in Kyoto, it could not be helped.

Kenshin had waited to see his master. He had waited until his wife and son had settled in before he had suddenly announced that morning that it was time to look for the medicinal herbs "that Megumi-dono needed."

She had lied as well, stating that she was sorry for inconveniencing Kaoru – when she knew in fact that their little excursion was a pretense to go seek Hiko. It was really a bald-faced lie meant for Kenji's sake. It had been obvious to everyone that there was more to it. Particularly when Kenshin added something else.

Shinomori was to accompany them. Okina – the only other among the Oniwaban with the old knowledge of medicinal plants – had suddenly come down with a cold, Kenshin had explained. .

And so they had departed the Aoiya together, she and Kenshin walking near one another and the third member of their party lagging quietly behind. 

If Kenshin sensed any of her unease, he did not mention it. She was grateful; in the past, Kenshin had an uncanny ability to pick apart her feelings and thoughts and was not afraid to confront her on it. But she was also intelligent enough to know that there was a reason for Shinomori's presence. Had she and Shinomori been complete strangers – she might have found a way to tease the reasons why out of the former rurouni. But things were too awkward for that now. 

To her relief, his own path diverged with theirs after a few hours of walking. But as soon as he had disappeared, she worried. Kenshin had made it appear that Aoshi would accompany them all the way – but now it appeared it had also been a cover for something else. What could it be that couldn't be shared in front of the others? 

Kenshin coughed politely, too aware of her unexpressed curiousity. "Shinomori-san has much on his mind."

"He does?" She was startled by Kenshin's perceptiveness. 

"As does Megumi-dono," his eyes closed briefly and he smiled. "Perhaps—"

"It isn't polite to pry into a woman's affairs—" Megumi felt old words coming back to her.

Kenshin laughed at her saucy tone of voice. Just as he always used to.

"Omasu and Okon seemed quite upset with me this morning," Megumi changed the topic. She added airily, "And I hardly know why."

"Omasu and Okon are very fond of my master, that they are." 

"Really?" Megumi frowned somewhat puzzled. Kaoru and Yahiko had described his assistance to them in defending the Aoiya against the Juppongatana – but their descriptions had only been of his skill, not of much else.

"Master has a strong presence," Kenshin explained as they began moving down the slope of a very carefully hidden path. 

Megumi moved more slowly aware of the sound of running water nearby – and knowing that while she couldn't see much beyond the trees, that one careless step could likely result in her falling down the side of some mountain and breaking her neck on whatever rocks and water lay below. 

"I would expect that," she answered dutifully, while picking her way through some of the dirt and rocks that sat loosely on the ground. Kenshin's words could be used to describe many of the men he had included among his former enemies and allies. However, none of them had turned out be much like one another. "Most of the persons in your acquaintance are," she added as she thought briefly of Sanosuke, Saitou, Enishi, and Aoshi. 

Hiko Seijuro certainly would be different, of that she was most confident. The truth was she had always been somewhat curious about the man who had raised Kenshin – who she still upheld as one of the most decent and honorable men she had ever known. That he was a recluse surprised her – he who had fostered a person like Kenshin, who was the apparent opposite. 

"There it is," Kenshin announced suddenly as he drew to a stop and pointed downwards.

"What?" Megumi caught up and stood alongside him, looking at a small valleyed area below. Her eyes quickly picked out the trail of smoke extending up from what appeared to be a messy brick structure, and then a sad looking shack next to it. She wondered if Okon and Omasu's enthusiasm for the great master would have been tempered when they saw the humble life the man so clearly favored. She said somewhat sarcastically as she stepped forward for a better look,"Is that the home to the great potter Kakunoshin Niitsu?"

"Megumi!"

She realized then that she had stepped too far, and suddenly she was slipping down the steep path, rocks and debris stinging her hands and face as she desperately tried to stop herself by grabbing onto anything that passed by.

'What a stupid way to die,' she thought to herself as she mentally calculated that at the current speed she was progressing that she would eventually hit something, sustain massive injuries and likely lapse into a coma. 

And suddenly she was no longer moving. 

"Stupid pupil," the man who had caught her was muttering. "He could have just taken the river path."

Automatically she moved her mouth to insist that this stranger put her down. But as Megumi looked up into the handsome face of her rescuer, she suddenly swallowed.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**  
har har har har har. Start off thinking quiet drama, and then start thinking, heck… just drama works for me. Enter Hiko! *rubs hands together* Chisaiilammy and I couldn't resurrect him from our comedy fic on tfme.net and so I decided in part 2 that he was sadly neglected in ficdom and therefore had to be used. He's already protesting. 

Comments: "another Meg/Aoshi" fic.Well... I don't know. I like Hiko. So lazy reviewers, you better let me know how much you love him or hate him. And Tami-chan: "proposal" is exactly what you think it is. Aoshi, being the proper honorable sort, proposed marriage. And got turned down flat. heh. I will come back to Aoshi, but not quite yet. 


	4. Realignment

* * *

**Memory's Touch**: Part 4   
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan @ mindspring dot com   
Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

"Megumi-dono!" Kenshin's appearance a half-second later roused her from her confused state. Almost reluctantly she tore her attention away from her rescuer and looked at Kenshin. His expression of concern reminded her again that she had just escaped considerable danger. 

"You're slow." The man frowned irritably at Kenshin. 

"It is a good thing that Master was here." Kenshin answered with an evasive smile, avoiding the intense evaluating gaze of the other man. Only then did Megumi realize that in the past her rescuer would have been Kenshin, known for his speed and reflexes, and not this man. "This unworthy one was wrong to send Shinomori-san away so easily—" 

"It was my fault." The mention of Shinomori embarrassed her. Not only because of what Kenshin's statement implied, but for drawing the attention of Hiko Seiijuro back to her. And also to the fact that the master had yet to put her down. 

Her voice was respectful, but distant as she acknowledged the man who was Kenshin's master and who had saved her from serious injury. "Sensei— thank you. If you would put me down I would trouble you no further—"

"No." 

She turned her head slightly to look at the man, wondering if she had heard him correctly. 

"No?" Her eyes narrowed as he continued to move down the path, with Kenshin following somewhat meekly behind. "I am a doctor." 

"Of little sense, it seems." The man apparently was not one for pleasantries. "As a doctor, you should know that your likely injuries mean you should not walk."

Again she opened her mouth to protest, but as he shifted her slightly, she inhaled sharply as she felt pain shooting through arms and legs. For once, Megumi Takani had to admit that she was wrong. 

When she shut her mouth, the man snorted and then turned his attention back to his 'stupid pupil.' "You seem to have very little in terms of baggage."

"Of course not," Megumi answered crossly – aware that the man was again bullying his pupil. "We did not plan to stay long."

"Master means your medicine chest," Kenshin turned away quickly. "I'll get to it."

"There are only bandages in there—" Megumi's voice trailed off as she recalled that it had fallen or rather been abandoned as she had fallen down the path. As Hiko placed her under one of the large trees near his home and kiln, she looked after Kenshin helplessly. "It's not worth hiking all the way back up –"

"Nevertheless, he will do it," the man sighed his impatience with her. "And he will bring other things as well that will be useful for your injuries."

"Medicinal herbs—" she stated.

"Among other things-- you forget that we lived here for many years on our training, without need for a doctor."

She stiffened slightly. "You don't think very highly of doctors, do you?"

He laughed. "You take things too personally, Takani Megumi. I am just saying that both Kenshin and I know injury, sickness, and death quite well."

"Then you see what I see," she tried not to frown as he positioned her on the ground and straightened out her legs. She winced as he palpated them for swelling and breaks through the fabric of her kimono. 

"Your legs are fine." He ignored her for a moment , instead turning his attention to her arms. His fingers moved expertly up and down her left arm– indeed as one who was experienced with injuries. Of course -- the injuries he had treated were those obtained during battle, not falling like a clumsy child down the side of the mountain. As he turned to his attention to her other side, she inhaled sharply as he pressed on her lower right forearm. 

"Your arm is broken, Megumi Takani. But as for my dimwitted pupil--" he looked at her. "The scar on his face grows fainter each time I see him. Enough so that even he did not have to wear a bandage – even if it was dark."

Megumi immediately forgot her pain. "Then he will not die soon?" 

"I will answer that question in a few days time," Hiko answered somewhat distractedly as he looked about for something to wrap around her arm. "When I've seen the entire picture. I take it that his loud-mouthed girl is in Kyoto?"

"Yes—" Megumi, in her relief, was able to answer with a sly smile . "--with his loudmouthed son."

She noticed the slight raise of eyebrows. Not at the news of a son – which she was certain Kenshin had kept him informed of – but at her. He had clearly not expected her to be so equal in her impertinence. 

"I am glad then, that my pupil did not drag them out here. I detest noisy women and children. Now about that arm--" As his fingers reached for the hem of her outer kimono, her other unbroken arm suddenly made itself useful. 

For the rest of the day, Hiko Seijuro the thirteenth stoically bore an imprint of a hand on his normally unmarred face. 

Kenshin did not dare ask about the origin of that mark. But he wondered if it had anything to do with the strange smile on Megumi's face and her arm in its pink sling. 

~

As he walked away from the fallen torii gates of Mt. Hiei Aoshi reflected.

Five years had come and gone – to some quickly, but for him with an excruciating slowness. The guilt over his men's death and the suffering he had caused to his own family – his clan—had been slowly eased as he did what he could to assist affairs at the inn. 

Every year he had come here, sometimes more often, to replay the lesson in his mind which Himura had to deliver to him in a fight and through which he realized how he strayed so far from his former identity as Captain of the Edo Castle Guard. That day, fighting in the library hidden deep within Mt. Hiei, he had reclaimed that identity and been defeated. And it was Aoshi Shinomori, Captain, that challenged Shishio and aided Himura. 

But the cycle of debt had not been nearly repaid until he had come again to help Himura. And even after he had done what he could to deliver Tomoe's diary, and to assist him in battling Enishi – he had not felt closure. 

He realized now, as he looked at the ruins of a battlefield which history would never admit took place, that something had substantially changed from his last visit here. The remembrances of the past did not hold as much bitterness as they ought, and he realized that he was truly free to live for the future.

He understood now what he had failed to see weeks before. The picnic at Mount Ueno had marked the end of his journey. Seeing Himura content with his wife and child had changed him and moved him, just as it had Megumi Takani.

It was evident on her face, and the way she moved quietly and lightly the rest of the afternoon and evening. It was that quality that had made him pay attention to her. 

Not that he would deny that she was attractive; Hannya had made sure to make his Okashira aware of that so to reinforce the importance of Kanryuu's commands to keep his golden goose from being harmed by the other guards in the estate, in addition to keeping her flying from her nest . But the awareness was not quite the same-- her own deeds had tainted his perception of her then, just as his own subservience to Kanryuu had tainted him. 

Somehow -- from the day Kenshin Himura had stepped into her life, she had been put on the path to being restored to what she ought to be. And her journey, he realized, had also been completed. 

The few impassioned kisses they shared were not a response to the past, but a tantalizing glimpse of a potential future. While his family at the Aoiya had made him smile, and given him some purpose and function the past five years – it was a pale shadow of the life he used to have. He was not certain it would be adequate to tide him over for the next thirty years of his life. Had it been, he knew that many hope he would marry Misao -- who at 21 had just come of age – in essence tie in the past with the future of the Oniwaban. 

He was well-aware of that expectation, and had done nothing. Perhaps it was that he had been waiting for something else. 

Or perhaps someone. Someone who, if he had not been uncertain of his own motives, might have yielded to him not just with that kiss, but much more. Someone who – at her essence – was more like him than any other. 

Someone who understood him. Someone he understood.

As he continued back down the path he had taken earlier that day – he reveled in that new insight and the stirrings of purpose within in his mind. 

Deftly that woman had used logic and reason to silence his ill-planned proposal, but logic could be patiently fought, and yielded once more. 

* * *

Author is experimenting with narrative structure trying to balance the quieter thinking part of this story with something to interest those who hate quiet stories. In light of my previous fic and other very good A/Meg fics pursuing the path of a slow building relationship, I have tactically taken a different approach to reflect Aoshi's decisive and active part of his nature. CL: not sure if my email went through. Heian=analogy as opposed to direct reference. 

Notes on the Hiko/Megumi comments. Actually there is such a fic at Takani X's website (go through my profile to the shrine to fanfics, etc.). Also Hakubaikou's Recovery has an excellent dynamic between the two. Their dynamic here will differ from both. 


	5. Down to business

* * *

******Memory's Touch**: Part 5   
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan mindspring dot com   
Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

She was deft when it came to displaying both affection and annoyance with particularly clueless people -- namely Kaoru and the long-gone Sanosuke Sagara. And, as a result, she was immediately able to see that same dynamic existed between master and former pupil.   
  
Last night, Kenshin Himura had gamely agreed to whatever Hiko had commanded, but that was only because out of his silly nature he had felt responsible for her current inactive state, lying here in the middle of this room crammed with pottery. Never mind it had been her who had been clumsy and took a turn down the hillside. Never mind also that it had been her idea that they make this trip as well.   
  
But this morning, she could already see that if she had assumed the relationship to be one way, that she was wrong.   
  
The two men were outside at the kiln, within hearing distance, discussing some inane thing regarding glazes. Hiko Seijuro, from all appearances, thought the conditions ripe for firing pottery. Megumi dourly noted it was overcast, but did not particularly care to shout out her disagreement from inside the hut.  
  
Again Kenshin had been commanded to go fetch water from the river, and Kenshin had resisted slightly. It had surpised her somewhat. In all the time she had known Kenshin, she had never heard him adopt a tone of sarcasm with anyone or lose his temper in such a consistent way. Then again, this was the same man who had also brought out her more violent tendencies.   
  
She smiled, as she reflexively curled the fingers on her good hand into a fist. The last person to have that dubious honor was a certain irritating roosterhead. Of course, the medicine chest she had used to mete out Sanosuke's punishments had been replaced since then and her days of throwing that box were long gone.   
  
But she had been tempted to substitute some of the pottery in this room yesterday for that box, particularly after Hiko Seijuro had moved towards her to move her inside for the evening. She had refused, preferring to instead to try to stand and hobble her way inside rather than 'be touched by a man who couldn't keep his hands in their proper place.'   
  
Kenshin had come to her rescue, helping her inside, as the other man fumed silently at her carefully delivered insult. As for the pottery, somehow Kenshin had sensed her intentions and in his usual kind way, he deftly made a comment regarding the value of these pieces before assuring her that his master absolutely had no inclinations towards lechery.   
  
It was probably fortunate for the pottery that Kenshin could read her thoughts so well -- she had thought some of it would crack nicely against the man's dense head and be better off for it.   
  
Nevertheless she would not spare Hiko her temper or her words. It had been a long time since she had exercised her womanly right to smack a difficult man into his place or had an opponent worth teasing. But she was still waiting for his answer regarding Kenshin Himura's future health. However, his demeanor towards her and his pupil almost demanded some sort of retribution when the opportunity arose.   
  
Even if she did not know yet the answer she sought, there were at least some benefits to this trip out into this odd isolated place. Accidents aside, there was this new insight into Kenshin's character and his past. The man she had met she had always known to be insightful, compassionate and oddly clueless. He was, with the exception of his constant need to take other's burdens upon himself, or had been always nearly perfect in her eyes. But now -- she saw him more and more as an ordinary man.  
  
And she knew that this latest accident would keep her here for at least a few days; and it would keep her from being distracted with her own problems. 

"Megumi-dono needs assistance." Kenshin's voice was insistent. "Perhaps some locals--"  
  
"There is no one of help within miles of here--"   
  
"There were a few houses five miles back." Kenshin corrected his master gently.  
  
"With useless men in them--" Hiko sighed. "Both in terms of physical strength and intellectual capacity."  
  
"Then you're suggesting--"  
  
"In a few weeks she'll be as good as new."   
  
At that, Megumi bristled. While she was not opposed to sitting here for a few days -- the very idea of sitting here for weeks was definitely out of the question. She tried vainly to sit up and move herself towards the partially opened door to mouth her protests.  
  
Kenshin added more quietly. "We are expected in Kyoto already."   
  
"The woman isn't going to be able to walk back unless you want to carry her back. I'd suggest that she rest longer. Besides which - I have yet to give that woman my assessment on _**your**_ health."  
  
The silence that followed told Megumi enough. She bit her lip in pain as she stood up and shuffled to the door. "And your constant demands for water and firewood supposedly part of this assessment?"

She noted sharply Kenshin's weak smile at her , but turned her dark eyes to the man next to him. The manner of drawing out this visit, she saw, would have its toll on Kenshin .

"Of course," Hiko had one hand on his waist. "I want to see how much of a weakling he's become."

"As his physician, I can assure that he is no weakling, except when it comes to being too agreeable to stupid requests from people too weak or lazy to do things for themselves."

"Megumi-dono—" Kenshin's voice betrayed his anxiousness.

The tall man crossed his arms over his chest. "And you are insinuating that I, Hiko—"

She smiled archly as she interrupted him. "You know perfectly well what I mean."

"Master, Megumi—" Kenshin was now waving his hands somewhat worriedly. "I'm off to get some water. Please—"

To Megumi and Kenshin's surprise, Hiko laughed as he slammed the kiln door shut. He laughed as if the laughs had originated from somewhere deep inside him. After a moment, he waved his hand dismissively at Kenshin. "Water won't be necessary."

"But breakfast—" Kenshin answered, somewhat startled by the change in Hiko's demeanor.

"I'll get the water." Hiko snorted. "Go hurry off and find help. The folks you mentioned are actually quite kindly, if somewhat stupid. At the very least they can get a message to Kyoto for you saying you'll be delayed. But don't worry yourself all that much either." His eyes were dancing in amusement as he smacked his former pupil on the back. "And don't worry so much either. Aside from leaving wrinkles on your face, worrying is completely unnecessary."

Kenshin gave his master a puzzled glance.

"The woman won't need much help after all." Hiko said dismissively, before idly grabbing a bucket and disappearing off towards the tree line.

"Of all the—" Megumi leaned down to look for a convenient heavy object, but felt a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Megumi—" Kenshin eased her back inside the hut. "He means well, that I'm sure of. But I will hurry back."

"It's fine." She shook off her annoyance. "As long as I keep offending his pride, he'll keep his distance and behave, for sure. Go ahead and get a message to Kaoru. I'm sure she'll be worried—"

Kenshin relaxed slightly, relieved by her understanding. "What would you like me to bring?"

"More cloths if you can procure them," she answered sensibly. "I'm fine for now, but I would like to rebind everything. "

"Alright," Kenshin stood up. "Master will behave, I am certain of it. Despite how he talks, he is a good man."

"Of course." Megumi saw that he, indeed, was worried at her own feelings. For his sake, she smiled. "I know that any person you care for must, be Ken-san. But don't dally too long either." She smirked at him. "There are some pieces of pottery which I think would suffer if you do."

At that, they both laughed.

* * *

The Aoiya quieted again after the lunch meal had come and gone. With most of the regular patrons disappearing back towards their own homes and jobs, there would be the evening meal and the boarders to deal with next. 

However, as his tasks fell to the management and financial affairs he had excused himself back to his office for a moment of quiet. It was not that he disliked the usual chaos – but he was still weighing out his thoughts and his actions.

He had hoped for a distraction amongst his books, but the truth was there was little to look at or do calculate or account for. Okina had done quite well for the Kyoto Oniwaban; even when he had taken over the affairs several years previously there had been little to work out.

If he dared to be even more truthful, he would admit that he was almost bored. Five years was a long time to do one thing. Even when he had been in the Shogun's employ he had at least a variety of opponents and certain disciplines to master. And it was in times of boredom, that his mind wandered. Although lately, it had grown much worse.

The sound of a rap on the door came almost as a relief.

"Aoshi," Okina was all smiles as he poked his head inside the office. "Are you busy?"

Aoshi knew full well that Okina could see he was most definitely not busy. "Come in and tell me why you're all smiles."

"Traveling around Kyoto with two lovely young women would make any man happy," Okina huffed with pride.

"You were giving Himura's wife a tour of Kyoto, were you?"

"Of course," Okina's head was clearly somewhere else as he continued rambling. "The last time they were here I promised everyone a grand tour. After all this time, I'm able to keep my word. Besides which, Misao loves any excuse to tour the old palaces."

"I am sure Kaoru-san appreciates the gesture."

"Oh she does," Okina flopped down on a well-placed cushion. "But she was rather sad that the others couldn't also come. But I promised her to close the Aoiya at the end of the week so that we can all enjoy ourselves for once. At least, if Himura himself is willing."

Aoshi paused, reminded that for Kenshin Himura, Kyoto was a city with many painful memories. "I'm sure that with your oversight, Okina, that he will not mind. And with his wife and child here, the concerns you have for him will not be an issue."

"Of course, of course," Okina spoke up a bit too brightly. "Speaking of which, have you heard from him or seen him?"

"No, but it is not quite yet the hour of Rooster. I'm sure that they will return near dinner as expected."

"Ah yes," Okina smiled when he caught the unintended slip on Aoshi's part. "Himura and the attractive doctor will surely return."

"Yes." Aoshi answered without thought, and then much too late realized the error in his response. "Himura and the doctor."

To his annoyance, that intended correction only highlighted his own slip.

Okina's voice grew even brighter. "She's as beautiful as ever, isn't she? I thought so the other day when I saw her come in through the entrance." Okina picked up one of the books that sat on his table. "Funny thing though in how uncomfortable she seemed this time around. It was as if she couldn't wait to get out of here the other day."

"Perhaps Himura's welfare was simply weighing on her mind."

"I suppose," Okina rifled through the pages, pretending to look at the numbers. "But even Misao noticed something amiss. She sounded rather worried for her. Said she was different than when she saw her in Tokyo. Did you notice anything?"

Okina's expression was casual, but his eyes were sharp.

If this were a routine interrogation of a caught enemy, Aoshi would have admired Okina's ability to draw out information. He did his best to sound impassive. "I would be a fool not to realize that the woman had something on her mind."

"And I would be a fool to ignore it. It clearly centers around you, Aoshi. I do not mean to pry, but I also wish for her and Himura's friends always to be welcome here in the place I call home."

Aoshi knew that Okina was scolding him, perhaps for some unkind behavior. It pained him to think that Okina – who was his mentor and much like a father to him – thought it possible even now. "She will always be welcome here. It was never my intention to suggest otherwise."

"But there is something deeply personal between you two, which I suppose extends back to the time you both served under Kanryuu?"

"Yes and no." He looked away, suddenly uncomfortable with where this was leading. "Perhaps it began there, but nothing came of it until I saw her last in Tokyo. I made a rather unwise… statement."

After a moment, during which he was certain Okina was scrutinizing him, the elder man started to chuckle. "You're a horrible liar Aoshi. You've always been a forthright person, even when wrong. And to think you can even deceive a fellow onmitsu is laughable. Aside from which, blushing is such a rarety for you that I know there is more to your answer."

Aoshi frowned. His pride, notwithstanding, there were the actual details he did not want known. They would be embarrassing for him, but devastating for her and her reputation. "The overtures were rejected."

"Completely?" Okina leaned in slightly, unable to restrain his curiosity. "Or am I wrong in assuming that perhaps she isn't completely uninterested?"

"I do not know," Aoshi admitted faintly, recalling that she had, at least once, reciprocated with a very clear display of feeling.

"Hmm." Okina stroked his chin. "It's not an idea that had occurred to me at all – but it's an interesting prospect, I admit. "

"Okina—" Aoshi knew too well that gesture; Okina was clearly thinking about something, planning something. "This is not an exercise. I will not allow you to attempt to manipulate the situation in any way."

"Oh of course not," Okina said casually. "I take it then, that you are contemplating this matter further?"

Aoshi stared down the man, indicating that that matter was closed to discussion. "Even if I am , I do not wish for this to go beyond here."

"Even if it would help your case for the others to know?"

"They would not sympathize." Aoshi shook his head, thinking of the young woman who idolized him and whose feelings he did not want hurt by any missteps now.

"Then you do not understand them, as much as you ought." Okina stood up, shaking his head. "They are family, waiting anxiously for you to open yourself up to them as you ought to. I will not tell them – but not for the reasons you think. As much good it would do, bringing you closer together – I can not force you to be what you are not. Until you see the meaning of my words – you will never be suited for a happy relationship."

* * *

"That stubborn pupil of mine hasn't returned yet has he?" 

Megumi looked up blankly at the door entrance where Hiko stood. She put down the packets of medicine she had been awkwardly trying to pick apart. "Is the neighbor that far?"

"No." Hiko sighed irritably. "And as they're not the social types – I'm sure he's not sitting there with them having a cup of tea."

For a moment, she forgot her annoyance at the other man as she suddenly worried for Kenshin. "Do you think something happened to him?"

"I'm assuming he found those neighbors to be thoroughly unreliable and went off to Kyoto himself."

"But that'll take him well into the evening to get to," she frowned.

"He's stubborn." Hiko's voice sounded vaguely resigned. "He always has been. If he has some idea in his head as to what needs to be done, he'll go off and do it."

She sensed a slight change in the man's mood – one which betrayed for once that he did, in fact, deeply care for his pupil. For that, she bit the urge to return his insult with another. "That sounds like him," she answered instead.

His attention was drawn back to what she had in her lap. "You're not having much luck with those packets, are you?"

"It is hard to open something with one good hand," she raised her eyebrow at him.

Before she could protest, he had quickly swiped all of them and taken a step backwards, safe from her good arm's reach. "I can't stand watching people wasting time. There's hot water already available. It'll be cold by the time you finish opening them."

The inklings of kindly feelings towards the man evaporated instantly. "Do you mean to tell me that Hiko Seijuro the Thirteenth is actually going to serve tea to a woman?"

"If it means getting rid of her and his stupid pupil even faster, then of course." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Besides which, I believe you are still waiting to hear my assessment of that pupil. Now that he is gone, we have things to discuss."

* * *

**Author's notes:** Finally found my groove and suppressed the desire to draw long enough to get this out. In my time off I went back and rewatched elements of the Kyoto arc. So many good things I had missed. sigh 

**Chiisailammy and MiJ:** Are you now even more confused? Okina's words need to be mulled over. What Aoshi may think may not be the reality that Okina refers to. Aoshi has issues, but they may be not the obvious ones after all.  
**keishiko **- Just reflecting back what Watsuki's intention was with that manga epilogue. Of course some things weren't completely resolved, but nonetheless I hope it was reasonable to use Kenji in such a manner.  
**CherieDee, PackleaderT, Wistful-Eyes, kenni, Amberle-chan, junyortrakr, Eevee** - thanks for your comments.I won't want to say more about Hiko w.r.t. Megumi at the moment. :-)


	6. Games

* * *

******Memory's Touch: Games**  
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan mindspring dot com   
Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

Note:   
Shisho="Master"

* * *

They could always sense one another's presence; it was that way with warriors – even those who no longer carried swords. And even though night had long since descended upon Kyoto and enshrouded it in darkness, Aoshi sensed his former adversary approaching the Aoiya.  
  
He dressed quickly before he drew himself to the window and expectantly looked into the courtyard below.  
  
His light blue eyes narrowed slightly, however, when he realized the man had come alone. Quickly his feet moved down the stairs, before he could even formulate a complete reason as to why this might be.  
  
"Kenshin—" The voice of a woman could be heard through the paper-thin screen door that separated him from the courtyard.. Aoshi stopped short, aware that for the moment, there was someone whose claim to the red-haired man was higher than all others and who did not require warrior's intuition to know of Himura's presence. Aoshi was certain Himura was already aware of his presence; but he waited behind the posts that supported the building's structure– allowing the man a moment to focus solely on his wife.  
  
From his position, he watched, with something like curiosity as the younger woman drew to the man.  
  
"I was worried," Himura's wife stated, her voice strained with relief.  
  
"I am sorry," Himura answered with a smile that spoke of a thousand apologies and a sorrow that went far beyond him simply being several hours later than expected. "I should have hurried, that I should have."  
  
"Kenji is already asleep," Kaoru Himura's eyes shone in the darkness. "But I'll wake him—"  
  
"No—" Kenshin sighed, in a way that made both his wife and Aoshi tense. And suddenly that concern which had first propelled him downstairs so quickly after Himura's arrival could not be ignored or delayed longer.  
  
"Where is Megumi Takani?" He stepped out from his place his voice was tinged with impatience, a quality which apparently surprised not only the Himuras, but himself. "Has something happened?" he corrected himself more quietly.  
  
Himura's eyes turned to him, reflecting something wise and amused – something which might have bothered him once, but was far better than an expression both grave and worried. "Miss Megumi is—"  
  
The sound of the door opening, forced him to hold the question that he had wanted to ask.  
  
"Himura!" "Kenshin!" Aoshi closed his eyes and waited for the gaggle of Oniwabanshu to note the very same thing he had noticed already for himself.  
  
"You're back!" "What took you so long?" And finally, "What has happened to Takani-sensei?"  
  
Himura hesitated slightly, overwhelmed perhaps by the cheerfulness which often marked the interactions with the others in the Aoiya. "I'm back, yes," he answered finally. "But—"he turned to look at Kaoru," I'm afraid I must go back. Miss Megumi has taken a bad fall—"  
  
His eyes snapped back open.  
  
"A fall?" Several female voices echoed aloud the concern in his own mind.  
  
Himura sighed. "She's somewhat unsteady on her feet, and may have a broken arm. I would have liked to bring her back but I couldn't manage to find enough help in the outlying areas—"  
  
"Where did you leave her?" Aoshi's frown deepened.  
  
"She's perfectly safe, I assure you," Kenshin held up his hands. "I've left her with Shisho." 

"You've left her where?" Okina gave him a puzzled look. As he and the others registered the meaning of 'Shisho," his face suddenly split into an amused grin . "With Hiko Seijuro?"  
  
"With Shisho," Kenshin nodded guilelessly. "So she's being well taken care of—"  
  
Aoshi's sense of relief was momentarily turned aside as two outraged howls followed. "It's not fair—" Omasu and Okon were seething in jealousy. "That woman alone with Hiko-sama. Himura-san, you didn't!"  
  
Kenshin Himura gave them a puzzled look. "Did I do something wrong?"  
  
"Women always seem to throw themselves at your master's feet," Okina said lightly.  
  
"But Shisho--" Himura clearly looked aghast at the implications. "Really, he's much too old and ignorant for that sort of thing—"  
  
"Watch it, young man," Okina grabbed Himura by the ear. "Who are you calling old and too infirm to appreciate the wiles of a beautiful young woman?"  
  
"Jiya!" Misao poked Okina, clearly disgusted by where the man's head was heading. "Miss Megumi isn't even here to defend herself against an old man's tongue--"  
  
Okina was chortling regardless. "Isn't this a funny state of affairs?" He directed a look at Aoshi. "Isn't it?"  
  
Aoshi did not answer.  
  
"Well, I suppose we should send someone to help Himura," Okina stroked his beard. "Kuro is still away, but I suppose Shiro wouldn't mind—"  
  
Shiro stepped forward dutifully to speak. Aoshi held up a restraining hand. "Shiro is expected to pick up a delivery tomorrow."  
  
"Is that right?" Okina paused unnecessarily. "Of course, of course," he shrugged. "I forgot that we have that shipment coming in. I suppose I shall go and lend my strength, as poor as it is—"  
  
"I shall accompany Himura," Aoshi found himself deciding the issue. "And tend her injuries and bring her back."  
  
"A sensible idea," Okina nodded, a bit too vigorously.  
  
"We could come, too." Misao spoke up hopefully. "I've been there before, as has Kaoru."  
  
Aoshi sensed Kenshin's discomfort at the suggestion. "I think not—"he stated calmly. "The less interruption there is to both Seijuro Hiko and our duties here, the better."  
  
"Aoshi is right," Okina coughed, drawing attention away from him. "The man is a hermit, and would not welcome an entourage of guests. Aoshi is being sensitive to the master's needs – yes-- and of course, he's the most logical and best suited person to escort our lovely doctor."  
  
The others nodded, aware that Aoshi's own skill in medicines and herbs was far superior to their own, as was his availability and strength.  
  
But –as the elder man hurried the others into stating their goodbyes and ushered the rest inside, Aoshi had a nagging feeling that somehow Okina had finessed the situation to be misconstrued. Several of the looks at him had been questioning and perhaps even suddenly curious. And in the case of Misao – startled.  
  
As he turned to face Kenshin's thoughtful expression, he thought again of warrior's intuition. However, in certain cases it went beyond the ability to sense one another – it was said that men who fought one another in battle, also came to know the other's thoughts and wishes.  
  
Intuition now told him that if Kenshin Himura had not known earlier his own confused feelings regarding the woman they were to retrieve, that he knew now.

* * *

The tea lay cold on the low, small table. But she could not bring herself to finish the last dregs of the expensive concoction. Megumi Takani was still mulling over the harsh words he had just uttered.  
  
"It is true," Hiko Seijuro had stated. "He is weakened."  
  
Kenshin had once said it was probably the mastery of the succession technique that had triggered that decline. After his battle with Shishio, she had noticed it while tending his wounds. And then after he battled Yukishiro Enishi it was more evident.  
  
She knew that but wished it wasn't so. How cruel that the same Hiten Mitsurugi style that kept Kenshin perpetually youthful could also kill him. "I had told him that it was because of his physique... and that by now he would be unable to use it. But beyond that–"  
  
Hiko took a long draught of his sake. "For a doctor, you seem to understand something of the martial disciplines."  
  
"I have seen enough," she bit her lip. _Enough fighting to last a lifetime._  
  
"Death for masters come quickly – the end of our life; the point where meaning has been lost, or rather our sense of meaning has been lost. The essence of the style is not just about protecting others, but the desire to live." He smiled evasively. "That kid has proven his understanding of that mastery at least once, by the scar I bear."  
  
"Scar?"  
  
He ran a finger down the length of the shirt that covered his chest, indicating where that scar was. "You were aware that the mastery of the succession technique requires for the pupil to beat the master."  
  
Her eyes rounded.  
  
"I was nearly killed by that technique; and to wield it also takes an inordinate amount of strength of effort on part of the person who gave it to me."  
  
"But you survived--"  
  
He set aside his small cup of sake. "I did because of his reverse-blade sword and because of my superior strength."  
  
Megumi wondered darkly if he was bragging, or if he was simply being reasonable in his own self-assessment. "But why would the succession technique trigger such a decline?"  
  
"The strength of Hiten Mitsuruugi style lies in physical strength in one sense, but it draws also from the wielder."  
  
"In other words—"  
  
"The attacker also bears the brunt of the attack. That is why it can not be used so liberally, nor is it meant to be used as such. The immense focus is one thing; but the transference of that requires immense strength. Kenshin has used the most severe of techniques at least twice –"  
  
"Not twice," Megumi shook her head glumly. Soujiro, Shishio, Enishi. Her brows creased as she suddenly recalled where she had also heard of a chest- long scar elsewhere. _Aoshi._  
  
"With a stronger, bulkier body it would not be an issue. But with years of fighting under his belt—"  
  
Megumi hung her head , at the feared words. So she had been right—He would decline and continue to. "Then there is no hope?"  
  
"You do not understand swordsmanship, doctor. There is danger to wielding a blade, that is true. But there is something beyond what you can see and understand. The will can exceed all. Even if he wanted to, even if you told him he could not every use the technique again -- if that desire exists – he will pick up that sword."  
  
"And kill himself," she muttered bitterly. "He must know that."  
  
"Have you not heard anything I've said?" Hiko wiped his brow in irritation. "The will to live, whether it be in pain or in happiness can surpass anything your science can tell you."  
  
"Then what is your assessment," she asked sharply. "Stop speaking in riddles—"  
  
He smirked, clearly enjoying her impatience. "Tell me – did you notice that he walks around these parts without a bandage on his face?"  
  
She thought for a moment, thinking back carefully. Most of the time in Kyoto he had stayed indoors, but those last days when he went out—  
  
"His scar," she looked at him excitedly. "He hasn't covered it—"  
  
"The need to has lessened," he looked satisfied when she understood.  
  
She gave a sharp sigh of relief. "Then it's true... my sensei told me that such scars can prolonged by emotional wounds—"  
  
"And healed—"he added.  
  
"Then the essence of the Hiten Mitsuruugi style—"  
  
Hiko fingered the edge of his shirt. "It does not require him to hold a sword; for a sword fighter is not made by it, but by his will. He is still a master of it and so, despite what medicine states, there is hope that he will not be killed by it—"  
  
She fell back on her legs, overwhelmed and yet relieved. "Are you certain?"  
  
"As certain as the scar on this chest," he opened the fold of his shirt revealing underneath something of a long thin line down his chest. "At one point," he ignored the puzzled, almost embarrassed look on her face at the sight of bare skin, "it spanned more than a finger in width, and was as deep. But now—"  
  
"It's barely there," she whispered in awe as she realized the significance of that thin line. Such a scar, that deep and long to be healed as such in these five or six years – was impossible. Unwittingly, she reached out towards that thin line, towards that scar -- unaware of the crease that grew on his brow.  
  
Suddenly, he stood. And guiltily, she brought her outstretched hand back to her lap, the fit of distraction now broken. She berated herself for her lapse in judgment and her forwardness; she had simply been curious; perhaps even attracted by that scar and what it represented, but in the context of this deep conversation, it was inappropriate.  
  
"I am fully recovered," he had turned towards the door, to leave she assume, but stared instead at a shelf of pottery. "I have all that I need in life and found my meaning and purpose. That is the significance of my showing this to you."  
  
"I am glad," she bowed her head. "If only because it gives me hope for Ken-san."  
  
"And yet, the answers are not as easy as you think it. " Hiko said somewhat mysteriously as he touched one of the pieces on the shelf..  
  
"What do you mean?" Megumi looked up suddenly, worried. "The scar is fading—"  
  
"The scar is but one sign. The real answer is not found simply in that. You must look harder for the answer you had wanted." He picked up a green glazed cup and eyed it carefully.  
  
"But surely you know—"  
  
"The answers to questions do not come so easily, doctor." With something of his usual smirk on his face, he tossed the cup in her direction. Had it not been for his perfect aim, it would have fallen to the floor carelessly and broken into hundreds of small pieces. But Hiko Seijuro was not a clumsy man, and so the cup fell squarely into the soft folds of her kimono.  
  
With her one good hand she picked it up, confused.  
  
"Study it," his voice was amused, challenging. "Study it until you hate the sight of it. Then perhaps you'll get an answer."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** _smirk_ Hiko is so infuriating in his instructions and his vagueness.   
Okina is infuriating in his deviousness. I love them both. Hahahaha!  
  
The details regarding the Hiten Mitsuruugi style and Kenshin's decline come from various points in the manga. (hopefully correct) As for the reasons for the decline, it's my conjecture on what I think about chi and life-force. It may be wholly incorrect, as I am not a martial arts specialist. But having read oodles of fantasy novels, I think it's not implausible. And yes, crossing blades with an opponent is one way to know a person better. 

Too tired to do the shout-outs. Or rather, won't comment because I am afraid of revealing too much. heh. But I love you reviewers anyways... it encourages me to update quickly... and half of seven is already drafted. _extortion mode on_


	7. Spring Rain

**Memory's Touch  
**eriesalia  
**Seven:**_ Spring rain_

* * *

_Random thoughts  
and loneliness trouble me  
I am soothed by  
anticipation of cherry blossoms  
and spring rain falling on my hut._  
  
"Waiting for Rain on the Roof " Otagaki Rengetsu(1791-1875)

* * *

The troubles of her mind and her past could be avoided in busyness at the clinic or in the presence of other people . But in sleep – they often returned.  
  
These few weeks had brought uneasiness to her dreams and also, almost in direct contradiction, a hope that things would resolve.  
  
Her mind was confused as she woke to the sound of pattering rain all around her and a small ceramic cup in her hands. Megumi glanced at it once, recalling the mocking look on the face of the person who had given it to her with his odd command to study it. She sighed as she studied its green slightly cracked glazes and thought pragmatically that it made a nice cup. She was thirsty.  
  
A small pot of warm water steamed quietly by the doorway, and she saw that next to it was a small bowls of rice and small fish left over from the previous evening.  
  
Her eyes carefully noted one detail that was missing. "Idiot," she sighed as she noticed a pair of chopsticks instead of the spoon which had appeared conveniently at yesterday's late meal and which he had watched her use.  
  
She then realized one other detail – the peculiar mantle worn by Hiko Seijuro did not hang, as it did last night, by the door.  
  
Megumi rose stiffly and moved to the door to push it open. Her eyes looked about, noticing the furnace that stood cold and unused this morning, and the complete absence of the man who had prepared her food.  
  
But then, perhaps that was not bad. Perhaps the man had finally given up on his former pupil and gone after him after all.  
  
She smiled for only a brief moment , amused by the man's seeming indifference towards his pupil. It was clearly a façade.  
  
But as her foot touched the tray where her breakfast waited, that smile faded into a look of irritation. The chopsticks sat on the tray, mocking her inability to use them.  
  
And oddly enough, she knew that somewhere between this hut and Kyoto the "compassionate" master was laughing all the way. 

==

"It is not a nice day, is it?" Kenshin slowed to look up apologetically at the sky, which responded by emptying itself of large, cold raindrops. "I'm sorry to trouble you by bringing you all this way, that I am."  
  
Aoshi adjusted the collar of his grey trenchcoat with one hand, while holding fast to the rein of the brown mare he led. It had been a good walk already from Kyoto to this remote area, but he had taken no notice of the distance or the weather. "It poses no trouble for me."  
  
"I am grateful, nonetheless." The former rurouni's smile reached his eyes as he twirled the umbrella that Misao had provided for him earlier that morning. "As I'm sure Megumi-dono will be."  
  
"Ah." He answered, not quite sure whether he agreed.  
  
His traveling companion raised his eyebrows for a moment. Aoshi wondered if perhaps even that one slight comment had revealed too much.  
  
"If only it weren't raining. Megumi-dono hates the rain-- "  
  
Aoshi held out his hand to catch a drop of water upon his fingers, aware of the other man's eyes studying him. Kenshin Himura was usually direct, but this morning, he appeared to be waiting for him to speak. "Rain is a necessary occurrence."  
  
"Of course," Himura said easily, perhaps too easily. "Rain is life to the things of this world, the waters we drink, the food we eat..."  
  
"Yes," Aoshi looked down for a moment at a pebble his shoes had struck. "Balance is something the rain provides. But—it also provides meaning to the sun that comes inevitably after."  
  
"Ah." The other man's violet eyes flashed their appreciation for that last thought. "Then this is not some unwanted duty on your part, is it Aoshi- san?"  
  
"The rain is no burden," Aoshi looked ahead, his words seemingly vague and noncommittal, but to the both of them – filled with some meaning and intention.  
  
Kenshin smiled softly to himself, not needing to ask anything more. "I'm sure Megumi-dono will not mind the rain," was all he said.

==

The rain came and went as they walked along the waters and weaved through trees before finding the small clearing and the cottage which Himura indicated belonged to his master.  
  
"Ken-san!" A pale face appeared in the doorway, and relief flooded the features of Megumi as they approached.  
  
His eyes noted the bruises on her face, the arm in a makeshift sling, and the torn garments which allowed him a glimpse of ankles and calves.  
  
She looked terrible and at the same time, wonderful.  
  
"I'm so glad you're safe," her mouth turned up slightly, and the delight in her voice was sincere.  
  
"Of course I am," Kenshin answered happily. "Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Yes," she answered, quickly brushing her mouth with the fingertips of her good hand to wipe away a grain of rice. "If only you had arrived earlier, Hiko-sensei would not have left."  
  
"Oro?"  
  
"Oh never mind," she stated in a pleased manner which puzzled the both of them.  
  
"Aoshi-san and I have not seen him," Kenshin shook his head. "We walked the river path – perhaps if he goes by the other way – one of the neighbors will tell him that I had gone on to Kyoto."  
  
At the mention of his name, she had turned her dark eyes to his. She dropped them before bowing slightly. "Shinomori-san."  
  
"Megumi-san," he answered, before turning to tie the reins of the horse to a post near the firing furnace.  
  
"The others send their regards," Kenshin opened the door to the cottage, and Megumi obediently followed, with him lagging further behind. "They would have all come had I allowed it -- but Master Hiko does not like so much company—"  
  
At that, she laughed. "Or any at all—"  
  
"But it's fortunate that Aoshi was able to come, that it was." Kenshin smiled innocuously at the both of them. "I'm afraid I realized that I shouldn't do this myself—and as Aoshi is also well trained in dealing with medicines and injuries – we'll both accompany you to Kyoto. "  
  
Her eyes turned to him, softened slightly. A smile briefly flashed across her face – for him. "I appreciate that."  
  
It was the first smile he believed she had ever sincerely meant for him. The smile wavered slightly as he held her gaze.  
  
"--For easing Kenshin's burden," she added a bit hastily as Kenshin sneezed and tore her eyes away, her cheeks betraying a tinge of embarrassment. She started to scold the poor man for walking around in the rain, scolding him for not wearing a coat in this weather and telling him he was going to drink whatever she pleased.  
  
He watched this scene with amusement – the flustered samurai and the demanding doctor bickering and finally pouring out the charm as she ordered Kenshin to sit and then with equal sweetness, turn to him to fetch water for hot tea.  
  
It was a sight certainly worth the trip.  
  
He left, ignoring the pleas and protests of Kenshin for his help as the doctor with one good hand and a fresh supply of cloths, attacked the red- haired man with them.  
  
The man would be dry soon enough. He could see that by the look on the woman's face.  
  
As for him, he ignored the dampness that stuck to his clothing as he walked to the river. The sun would soon appear shortly, and take all last traces of rain with it.

* * *

_notes:_  
A thinking man is sometimes frustrating in that he changes things around him in terms of tone and meaning. Lovely character -- Aoshi -- but difficult in this experiment. Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter -- Chiisailammy, Mij, Amberle-chan, keishiko, Cwolf2 (yes, we need more Meg/Aoshi fics), Shizimu (I am beating up Hiko in the back for being so disruptive), and Jieli (thank you -- you get it, you get it, you get it!). 


	8. 

* * *

******Memory's Touch**: Part 8  
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan mindspring dot com   
Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

A peal of laughter issued forth – tinkling and coy – as Kenshin looked helplessly out from under a pile of clothing, eyes blinking in confusion.  
  
The expression on Megumi's face was smug, indicating how much she was enjoying herself -- not just at the sight of her friend whose red hair was buried under ornate cloths – but at the sheer silliness of it all. She —the invalid -– had managed to convince two warriors to do exactly as she wished – one who was now sheepishly rubbing his wet hair with the material meant to replace her torn kimono and the other who had humbled himself to fetching water from the riverbank.  
  
Kenshin smiled faintly. "Megumi is well, that I can see."  
  
Her response was light and confident. "It would take more than injuries to bother me."  
  
"Of course," he nodded half-seriously, "But we were worried for you still. Master Hiko—"  
  
"Master Hiko was his usual charming self," she interrupted. "But I did not chase him off or maim him, if that was your concern. However—"she added darkly, "some of his pottery has conveniently disappeared."  
  
At that, Kenshin looked around nervously, to identify exactly what else Megumi had done in his absence. "Megumi-dono, he's rather fond of those pieces—"  
  
Megumi shrugged. "I promised only to not break his pottery, although I should have considering he left me here without a means to eat. But because of his help – I took the liberty of simply misplacing his prized pieces."  
  
His face shifted slightly as he considered her words further, turning suddenly serious. "Then –"  
  
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "He knows something has changed."  
  
He glanced down for a moment. "Then is there little hope?"  
  
"No," her voice was sharp, almost angry for his pessimism. "By no means am I saying that. In fact, I would say that there is much reason to hope." She thought about the faded scar once again. "I don't think he means for either of us to give up on your situation either. The mystery of the Hiten Mitsuruugi style allows for that."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Neither do I," she shook her head. "But your master was able to provide proof enough to me that I can believe, just as you asked me to believe you five years ago, when I first met you. And now, our roles are reversed. I should be the one to telling you to not ever lose sight of hope instead of telling you to worry."  
  
She poked Kenshin affectionately, trying hard to smile and to reassure him. "I think he was telling me to let what I thought go – and to believe in you, Kenshin. For whatever reason," she smiled and touched the scar on his cheek. "I think this is the answer, Ken-san. You may have not seen it – but both he and I noticed that the scar has faded."  
  
His fingers automatically went up to the scar on his cheek and traced its edges gently. "Has it?" he wondered aloud. "Is it possible?"  
  
She answered, "I am not a warrior –and so I am ignorant."  
  
"Megumi-dono does herself too much disservice," Kenshin shook his head.  
  
"No—"she persisted. "I am only a doctor, able to talk about the things that are physical, of the things outside. I can not speak of the other things Kenshin. And so perhaps if he speaks to you of the same things, you will better understand."  
  
"I shall ask him, then." Kenshin stated and turned to look out the window. "Even though it then means that I will have to delay my promise to my wife and that Aoshi will have to take you back himself."  
  
"Himself?"  
  
Kenshin tilted his head and gave her a crooked smile. "Aoshi may be a man of patience, but even he can not wait around for Master Hiko, who has gone off on his own, to do who knows what – wrestle bears, knock down trees , or drink."  
  
"Ken-san," Megumi glared at her friend. "Be serious—"  
  
The former rurouni laughed. "Megumi-dono claims to not understand warriors, but even she can not be easily confused." He was amused nonetheless. "My master will be glad to think that not everyone thinks him to be a sake-swilling bum."  
  
"Don't inflate his ego further," Megumi answered crossly. "I'm sure he enjoys his sake, but even he's not stupid enough to wrestle bears or knock down trees simply for sport."  
  
He chuckled. "I'm sure the master will return shortly -- it is his usual way to go off when thinking about something and return by the next morning. But as for Aoshi-san – we should not make him wait on us any longer than necessary."  
  
She nodded, somewhat reluctantly.  
  
"Don't worry," Kenshin's eyes were kind and almost gently scolding. "Aoshi- san will take very good care of you, that he will. Of his intentions I am very certain."  
  
There was a strange emphasis to his final sentence – one that hinted at something. Her cheeks warmed as she wondered exactly what the men had discussed on their way here. "Ken-san should not tease," she laughed forcibly. "One does not tease when it comes to that man."  
  
"Of course not," Kenshin laid aside the wet cloths that had been used to dry his hair. "He was most serious when he decided that he would be the one to come to help you."  
  
She bit her lips, somewhat taken aback by his tone of voice. "Be serious -- given everything in the past -- that hardly makes sense--"  
  
"Ah, the past." Kenshin answered somewhat vaguely. "The past can be difficult, sometimes – getting in the way. Sometimes, even present circumstances can be a hindrance--."  
  
"Ken-san?" The strange answer confused her.  
  
His eyes drifted away from hers, and his voice softened as he touched the scar on his face. She worried, wondering if she had been unwise to mention it to him – to remind him of his own past and Tomoe. "Ken-san—"  
  
For a moment, he did not answer, weighted by something. And then a strange, sad smile passed briefly over his face as he placed his hand in his lap. "In the midst of the most difficult and terrible circumstances, people can discover that their lives were inherently foolish. Some people learn that lesson at a great cost. But those who manage to survive can move forward."  
  
When he turned back to her, the strange smile was gone. "Those who have their path in life set on a different course are no longer the persons they once were. Isn't that true, Megumi-dono? Did you not say something like that a few minutes ago?"  
  
"Hai," she answered meekly.  
  
"It is the same with Aoshi-san," Kenshin stood up. "He is a good person to have at one's side if he chooses to be there."  
  
She had never doubted for a moment that Aoshi Shinomori was valuable as an ally, but Kenshin did not know the foolish thing that had occurred weeks before.

However for Kenshin, she would do almost anything. "For your sake then-- I will do as you ask."  
  
Kenshin leaned down to pat her good hand. "For my sake and for his. Share some of that compassion you have for this unworthy one with others, especially him . Though you owe him nothing, Megumi-dono -- he is at his own crossroads now -- has his own questions to pursue. I do not know completely what he thinks -- but I am certain it is perfectly reasonable in its own way. "  
  
"Of course." She outwardly agreed, but doubted it nonetheless for reasons that again , Himura Kenshin, would not understand.

===

She remembered water -- cool to her hands as it flowed over her fingertips, washing away the dirt and blood that came from the patients she served. It had been a small pleasure, one of many in the unbearably hot Tokyo summer.  
  
It had only been weeks since Enishi had disappeared unexplainably, and weeks since Kenshin and Kaoru had both returned safely to the dojo. But they were again gone – this time to Kyoto, to put to rest the memory of Tomoe together.  
  
It had been nearly dinner time.  
  
She had left the clinic quickly for the marketplace, doing her best to pick out the best of what was left for that evening's dinner at the dojo. Everything about her was total efficiency, until she passed a stand of yellow and green fruits, her eyes softening at their sight. She remembered looking wistfully at the melons, fragrant markers of summer, that childish voice from the past echoing in her mind pleading with her parents for a taste of rare fruit.  
  
_"Can we get a melon?"  
_  
Her hands had been full, unable to take more. The old woman had asked her to take them – so that she could pack up and go home. And she had felt uneasy, almost guilty for dawdling too long before the stand. And so she had started to apologize.  
  
And then inexplicably, her bags had been taken from her and his voice had smoothly stated what she had wanted to state from the beginning.  
  
"I'll take all of them."

He characteristically said so little, that she could remember those words even now and how she had said nothing, instead only staring up at Aoshi Shinomori both startled and awed as he passed several coins to the elderly woman and slung the bag given in return over his shoulder.  
  
And she had been forced simply to follow empty-handed as he continued further along, looking a sight ridiculous with so much food in his hands and on his back and to wonder how much more there was to this man.  
  
Yahiko and Misao had come to greet them, obviously pleased by the sight of her and the dinner that would follow. Misao had been more than polite and friendly, but her greetings had been quick, her eyes already looking beyond Megumi. The look of happiness and who it was for was unmistakenable.  
  
She had noticed then that the girl had smiled first for the man, and second at the prize he had obtained at the market. Actually, Misao had squealed in delight and, in response, a faint look of pleasure had crossed Shinomori's face.  
  
It was then that Megumi had understood the significance and meaning behind what Shinomori had done in the marketplace.  
  
And she remembered it still.  
  
==  
  
The tea done, there was nothing else to do but to go.  
  
It was evident that the two men had already decided for her what her fate was, and although that railed her inside she chose to be pragmatic. She could not ride that horse alone.  
  
She did not utter any complaints as Kenshin placed his hands under her foot and helped push her up slightly towards Aoshi.

She did not wince as Aoshi leaned over to grasp her good arm and settled her on the horse in front of him.  
  
Nor did she blush as she felt his arm move firmly around her waist and pull her securely against him.  
  
Or rather, she would not allow herself to do any of these things – even though she found herself leaning with her head and shoulder against him, her legs touching his as she sat sidesaddle, and felt the brush of his chin against her head.  
  
She ignored it all, focusing instead on the thought of summer and of sweet, fragrant melons.

* * *

Author's notes: At the end of Jinchuu manga storyline, some time elapsed before everyone's final farewell. There was a scene there with melon from which Megumi's memories are loosely drawn from.  
  
More memories, and then even worse –a memory within a memory. Beats all you readers senseless with that and various appeals to the senses. Which of the five senses shall be appealed to in the next experimental installment? Assuming that there still is interest in one – as opposed to an inserted _cough_ wedding _cough_ chapter for "Another Chance," or another installment of one of the other fics. Speak out now or temporarily hold your peace. The dreaded exams are upon me... after which, I shall hopefully return to writing the most requested 'whatever' with a vengeance.  
  
Yes everyone -- Hiko was 46 or 47 in Kyoto arc. So that makes him 51 or 52 But why do we care? He's off wrestling bears right?


	9. Betrayed

* * *

******Memory's Touch**  
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan mindspring dot com   
Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

She closed her eyes and tried so hard to think of that memory – a young girl's face touched with delight first at the first taste of summer.

Blue eyes lit with happiness --the same color oddly enough as those of the man who had turned them from her to the rocks on the riverbed for the safest and surest places for the horse to step.

But it was hard to think of Misao, when her own head refused to logically overrule the pounding of her heart.

Megumi dimly wondered if he could hear it, even with the wind blowing at their back and the water rushing underneath the hooves of their beast. Not just her heart, but the ache of a sudden loneliness which became more and more obvious to her the longer the ride stretched, the more time she spent nestled against him.

It angered her to feel it – the sudden awareness of something not being quite complete in her life – even though she did not despise anything of the life she had built in Aizu.

_Don't be such a weak, foolish, woman as to go to pieces as soon as a man holds you in his arms._

"The rain is getting worse," she spoke suddenly, flatly.

_And don't so sound so damned petty either. _She almost slapped herself for sounding so moronically childish.

"Is it?" Aoshi turned those cool eyes to her which made her forget the uncomfortable way her kimono clung to her legs and instead think of how she didn't protest after he responded by drawing her even closer to share more of that blasted trenchcoast with her.

She felt danger. Not from him, but because of him. Because he – like Kenshin – had been intricately involved with everything that had changed part of her life the last five years. Because he was threatening to do it again – to mess with the careful life she had built for herself. A life where she was respected, admired, loved – but always distant and always alone.

Her mind betrayed her by telling her that he, impossibly was the only someone other than her saintly Ken-san who could understand her.

"Please," she shivered. "Let's turn back. It's getting worse and you're getting all soaked."

"This kind of water can not kill a man."

No it could not. But it could make him seem more human, plaster that perfectly cool face with those ridiculous bangs of his – and glisten invitingly on his skin, asking to be wiped off with one of the handkerchiefs that she kept hidden away inside her obi.

_Don't! _Her inner voice screamed loudly as her fingers on her left hand moved slightly towards her obi, so loudly that she had to shut her eyes.

He stiffened. "Megumi?"

_Did he hear that?_

She forced her voice to sound cool, clipped as her hand withdrew again to the safety of her lap. Instinct kicked in – and words came to her mouth. "If you're soaked to the bone and become ill, neither Okina or Misao will ever forgive me."

She emphasized Misao's name. She emphasized it to remind herself of a reason why nothing could ever, should ever, or would ever happen. A reminder not to just herself – but _to him.___

As always, he was imperturbable. "Do you know them well enough to speak that?" Aoshi looked ahead, which mysteriously she understood to mean he thought that she did not.

_Damn those blue eyes of his. Damn them for not even blinking. . _"But--"__

"But what of Himura, who gave you over to my keeping? Tell me, since you understand him more than I -- would he forgive me if I failed to deliver on my task?"

She felt her temper rise and then fade. _I can never win, can I? _ Ken-san was the one person whose own judgment she would take above her own. She almost sighed as she answered. "Then, can we at least stop for a while somewhere out of the rain?"

At that, Aoshi did a small and rare thing. He smiled slightly – aware that she had given up on her little scheme. "There is a shelter a short climb up that hill."

He had already stopped and dismounted the horse before it hit her that he had stopped the horse before she had asked the question and given in on her demand to turn back. Her mouth twisted slightly as she considered that he had known this shelter was here while she argued with him.

"Shinomori!" She felt irritated – at the rain, at her inability to reason her way into winning this argument, at him for being right in what he said and for also being ahead of her, and most of all – at herself.

"It's not far," he ignored her weak attempts to struggle and had already taken her gently into his arms to take her off the horse. He tended to the horse -- taking down the bags attached to the saddle and moving it off into the bushes before turning back to her, his one free hand outstretched towards her.

"I can walk." She ignored it and despite the pain, took a step on her own. She would have tossed her head if she could, but the rain had turned the normally silky strands into wet, dead weight on her shoulders.

"Of course," he answered and walked up the gentle slope. "Let me go ahead then."

She hobbled behind him, ignoring pointedly the shelter had tried to offer her under his coat as he moved towards the shelter hidden carefully off in the treeline and under the roof that offered a small area of protection against the wetness outside. She tried very hard to look dignified as she dripped all over the packed dirt floor and looked out the window

"Megumi." He was standing behind her, his fingers resting lightly on her damp sleeve.

"You're right, Shinomori," she suddenly felt nervous as she realized that again that her mind continued to betray her. All this time -- she had sought to avoid being alone with him and now they stood inside a shelter removed from an already poorly traveled course.

A moronic choice. Left alone, one could only think of all the things that could happen.

"We should probably not turn back, it'll be impossible to go back that way anyways with the rain. It'll be dark earlier and we should just press on. We can't really build a fire in here and I'm already soaked and so it's utterly pointless to dawdle here and, and—" And she sneezed. Darkly, she realized that she had been babbling. Second, that now in addition to her own logic failing her – her body was now also conspiring against her.

"It's nothing," she tried to move away, but felt a strange tickling sensation in her nose again. Again her body defied her as she sneezed most ungraciously into the handkerchief she had procured quickly from her obi.

Aoshi Shinomori cleared his throat. "I think you were right to suggest we wait out the rain." His mouth moved slightly in amusement as he saw her start in surprise. "But as for your concerns -- there is some dry wood in the corner and this floor is dirt. And there is tinder in the saddlebags as well as other things which are not pointless or useless."

She realized he meant to build a fire. "How long do we stay here, then?"

"It depends," he answered in his usual infuriating abstract way.

She narrowed her eyes briefly, wondering what that meant. Was it a reference to the rain? Was it a reference to her and his apparent enjoyment over her being out of sorts? Was it some weird plan devised by both him and Kenshin?

_He is having fun at my expense, that damned man._

Defiantly she turned back to the open window. "Well, I have nothing to eat in my bags – other than a handful of medicinal herbs and a useless ceramic cup. Tell me, Okashira, since you are so obviously prepared if you have anything to eat or drink? Or are we going to sit here and stare at each other until the rain stops?"

"Only dried mystery rations," he stated in dry, serious tones.

She turned to eye the package that he had taken out and eyed it suspiciously. "It looks like it's a cord of cured leather from one of those foreign merchants."

"It is." He took out another small box. "_This _ is what Okina had the kitchen pack for you."

She might have laughed as it occurred to her that perhaps the man did have a sense of humor. On any other day, perhaps she would have. But with the rain weighing on her, with her arm throbbing oddly, and with all her thoughts and emotions thrown out of sorts – she simply overreacted. "Are you trying to provoke me, Shinomori? Or is there any good reason why today of all days you are constantly putting me into my place?"

She expected him to simply ignore her, but surprisingly, he responded. "Tell me, is it what I say that bothers you so much? Or perhaps it's Himura?"

"Ken-san?" She started, surprised.

"You were worried enough for him to come all this way – and even now you have not said whether or not you learned enough regarding his health." He moved closer, not knowing that it both perturbed her and forced her to speak. "And you have been distracted the entire ride."

_Foolish woman.__ He noticed._

Her face grew redder, this time not in anger, but desperately trying to find some way out of admitting something she did not wish to reveal. "It is still not clear. There is hope, but I can not completely understand what Hiko Seijuro means sometimes. Men are difficult to understand in their vague ways –particularly fighters."

"What did he say?" His eyes were thoughtful, ignorant of the water that dripped through his hair and down his cheek.

_Or perhaps he had not._

"Oh-- something like answers are not so easily found," she answered somewhat dismissively, now that she felt the danger had passed.

"I see."

She raised her left hand to wipe at the water that had dripped on her right cheek. "By the way, you're dripping water on to me, Shinomori." Ineffectively.

She nearly jumped when he pressed a cloth to her cheek. "You don't need to do that."

His expression was disturbingly placid. "It has nothing to do with Himura, then.."

"No." She turned away and looked outside, willing the traitorous jumbled thoughts inside her away. _I don't like being alone. I don't like to need, to want, to desire – to be weak! _. "I don't wish to discuss it. "

He was silent -- perhaps put off by her stubborn refusal to be anything but open with him.

Desperately she looked for something else to occupy him, to push him away and tell him that he was treading dangerous ground that she didn't wish to have tread. The sound of droplets hitting the ground reminded her that she wanted warmth to rid herself of the water that she hated. "Aren't you going to start that fire?"

She felt his hand on his shoulder before he spun her around slowly to look at her closely. "Is that your wish?"

Foolishly, she said nothing as she stared into his blue eyes, as calm and as certain as hers were confused and conflicted.

He bent his head down slightly to hear the words she did not speak. She did not move.

"Ah," he answered in kind as he drew her closer, where she could not escape noticing that he was warm, warmer than any fire he could build in this sorry shelter. "I thought so."

She yielded finally, tilting her head up to receive the kiss that had been impending all along, ignoring the mocking voice in her head and the sound of her world crashing down all around her.

* * *

Grumble. The muse was a little weird this particular outing. Perhaps somewhat indulgent and unexpectedly playful. If I regret it in the morning or find some glaring inconsistencies, I shall remove it and edit it into submission. But if you catch it before then – well happy you. :p

And oh yes. Thank you to the kind folks who nominated "Another Chance" for the 2003 RKRC awards. I'm pleased as punch. I just hope people can sit through that much writing. For those who are not aware of what I'm talking about - go read my profile and yes, if you want to freak out the RK masses vote for the fic when voting opens. evil laugh Now to figure out what gets updated next...


	10. The stopping of rain

* * *

******Memory's Touch**  
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan mindspring dot com  
Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

He kissed her only briefly, her lips were as soft as he remembered them.  
  
And then he held her, his hands stroking the damp hair that clung to her face, wondering why he had done so -- what had moved him to be impetuous.  
  
When he had finished, she stood for a moment with her eyes closed, her expression so quiet and open that he thought that he would have liked to kiss that mouth again. He tilted his head again to press his lips to hers – but faltered when she shivered.  
  
He had wanted to calm her, distract her, reassure her of his protection – and until now she had seemed to accept it – nestling in his arms as they rode quietly through the mountains and not protesting when he had leaned forward to kiss her, even going as far as to place her good arm around his neck.  
  
No matter how much she had protested in Tokyo—the strange tension between them had persisted in Kyoto, and here had only intensified.  
  
Aoshi knew his presence affected her, but now was certain why. She was still conflicted when it came to him – not knowing what to make of the intense tension and attraction that existed between them. But her wavering made him pull away reluctantly. "I should build a fire."  
  
She touched her fingers to her lips, a confused expression on her face. "Yes. Of course."  
  
He felt her eyes upon him, studying him as he went about clearing the debris from the circle of stones and arranging the wood and kindle that would serve to start the fire.  
  
When it had been built, she crouched next to him and stared into it, ignoring the fact that the mud from the water and dirt was now soiling the hem of her kimono.  
  
Finally, she sighed. She turned her head towards the open door that led outside, before boldly voicing the question he had in his own mind. "Why do we always pull away?"  
  
He poked a stick into the fire before casting it into the flames. "Perhaps it is the past."  
  
She frowned slightly. "No. If it were, would I even let you near me? Would I have even tolerated your presence in Tokyo or accepted your help?"  
  
"Then –"he pondered other words she had once told him, "Is it that I presume too much about you? Or that I haven't learned enough in your opinion?"  
  
She gave him a shaky smile. "I'd say you know me better than even I understand. I had no intention of letting you steal another kiss, Aoshi Shinomori-—but you knew how to get past every objection I had, and every trick I tried to pull in order to keep you away. But you're onmitsu – and you managed to get under my skin as easily as you would break into any fortress."  
  
"Megumi," he pulled her to him, recognizing that she would not protest. She had just admitted her weakness for him – the same weakness that he had for her. "Even if I used every onmitsu trick I have in my possession – and learned every secret delight of yours and every detail of your life now – it would not change that I've known you longer than any person on this earth."  
  
"That is true," she almost laughed, but did not. "So my objections to your earlier proposal were perhaps weak."  
  
He sat, with her carefully perched on his leg, not wishing to frighten her away. "Even then, I did not always understand you, but I know you better than most – and enough now to see that you are divided."  
  
"I suppose I am." She wavered again, her hand trembling as she touched his own. "I have been thinking much the last few days. Not just about Ken-san, but about life."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And," she paused. "And how I've been living it and wish to live it."  
  
"And there is no place for someone like I—"  
  
"No," she shook her head vehemently as she placed her hand over his heart. "I think that the problem is that there is no place for me in yours."  
  
He paused, silenced by her bold accusation.  
  
"Kyoto will always have its hold on you – whether you realize it or not. You will always be Oniwabanshu even now when they do not exist."  
  
"I have left before."  
  
"And came back," she shook her head gently. "And stayed. Tell me, why is that?"  
  
"It was where I was needed," he answered.  
  
She moved her hand towards the right side of his chest. "You still have your scar, don't you?"  
  
"I bear many—"  
  
"The one that Kenshin gave you—"  
  
She poked his chest, drawing a wince. "Yes, it is still there."  
  
"In fact, it still aches, doesn't it?"  
  
He raised his eyebrow as her fingers crept inside his shirt and opened it. He would have questioned this gesture, had her face not become more clinical and detached. This was no advance of the romantic sort – but purely a medical question.  
  
"I see," she bit her lip, her voice sounding almost disappointed and her eyes sad, sadder than anything he had seen in a long time. "It looks still new – as if it were just a year ago."  
  
"The ultimate attack—"  
  
"Yes," she withdrew her hand and moved away. "The ultimate attack does create great damage. But – the damage can heal, Aoshi. That much I learned from Master Hiko. I hope that for you, it does heal someday. And Kyoto, I hope, will do that for you."  
  
He frowned slightly, wondering at the resignation in her voice. "Megumi--" He wanted her to understand the revelations he had himself the past few days – the change he wanted, and the inexplicable force that drew him to her and the desire he had for her to stay .  
  
"Don't argue," she turned back to him and pressed her lips to his forehead. He paused, surprised by the gesture of tenderness. "I understand now. You think you know your path – but yet, you must still be unwhole. I can't help the circumstances that made you this way, and I another way. I can not take back the past that made us the way we were, and change the future that you see for yourself."  
  
"You are perhaps too certain of what you think—"  
  
She laughed softly. "You understand me – is it not probable that I understand you equally? That I know you, even more than you yourself?"  
  
He considered that for a moment, before accepting it as possible. His newfound confidence could very well be faulty. "Then what would you have me do?"  
  
"I came to Kyoto for one reason only," she closed her eyes. "And that was for Kenshin. You came here to these mountains for that as well."  
  
"And?"  
  
"We must go back to Kyoto and do what we initially set out to do, and not pretend that two half-formed people who are attracted to one another can really be much more than to one another. Everything until this moment , that occurred here, must be forgotten. Life will return to as it should be. Not because I will it, but because your healing depends on it."  
  
"I would rather you stayed." He touched her face, noting her eyes shone at those words.  
  
Megumi smiled bravely before she leaned in to kiss him, a kiss that was filled with bitterness and regret. It would be, he understood, the first and last freely given from her. He wished for her to stay, but it was clear, that she did not.  
  
She stood then and again looked outside. Her voice was distant and detached. "The rain has slowed. We should leave now, if we're to make the Aoiya before nightfall."  
  
Unwillingly, he looked outside.  
  
The rain had stopped.

* * *

Authors Notes: IMHO, the woman doth protest too much, methinks – but ah.. the scar, that lovely horrible scar. A short update, meant to bridge back to reality – the normal world and dealing again with Ken-san, our symbol and our bridge. Skulks off to consider that this story has moved in a direction wholly unanticipated.  



	11. Cold heart and soft rain

**Memory's Touch**  
A RK fanfiction by eriesalia: onigirichan mindspring dot com  
Standard disclaimer applies.

* * *

The rain had stopped, and he mourned its absence. He missed its gentle falling, just as he missed Megumi's earlier gentleness. 

"_The rain has slowed. We should leave now, if we're to make the Aoiya before nightfall."_

Instead, she had made every attempt to put distance between them with pragmatic words, ones with which he could not argue.

In the end, logic kept his lips closed, but a divine gust of wind blew in, cold and brisk and bracing. Winds of fate, he mused, which betrayed her uncertainty and caused her to shiver slightly.

Shinomori Aoshi, the genius of the man that he was, saw in that one shiver more than enough opportunity and reluctance on her part to try yet again.

"Are you ill?" He placed himself between her and the door, between leaving things simple and undiscovered, and the alternative of indulging feelings, emotions, and passions as they had almost done in Tokyo just a short time ago.

Before she could answer, he had pulled her to him, firmly – not roughly – to place his fingers against her skin, to see if she could truly weather the distance back to the city. But the moment he touched her skin, wet with water, yet again he forgot that he was trying to measure warmth.

Instead, he touched her and could only measure softness, and hardness. There was the softness of her skin against his, and the softness of her voice as she sighed and leaned against him. And there was the hardness of the door against his back as he leaned back, with her weight fully upon him, and forced it shut. And there was the strength required to keep himself from pressing her against the hardness of the floor.

He was nearly undone. Logic was failing him, and her, as his lips grazed against her cheek and moved gently down her neck. "Are you ill?" He asked it again, his hands meeting around the small of her back, encircling her protectively. He held her while thinking about all the protests she had voiced earlier. She was, by her own admission, as broken as he – and, afraid.

"Aoshi," she finally relented, putting one free arm found his waist and letting her head find its way to a place under his chin. "It's not about you. It's me."

"Half-formed people we are, you and I." He repeated her words back to her.

"I'm afraid that I have become cold and scarred inside. How can two wounded, cold people minister to one another?"

Cold. Scarred, yes. Perhaps wounded. But cold? How odd that she thought them so very much alike, maybe too alike to ever be able to help one another in her mind. Yet--

"You are not cold." One of his hands drifted up slightly to stroke at the hair that fell loosely down her back. No, she could never be cold to him… a woman who never quite acted as she ought to, and who always seemed to defy logic and convention. "And I will prove it to you."

She lifted her head from its resting place to look at him in the eyes, her mouth slowly curving upward in a gesture of something akin to amusement. "How?"

A challenge. Somehow, it seemed to revive her spirits… something of the woman who was and could be Takani Megumi as well as him. He pressed his lips to hers. She would not have the last word on this matter between them being over– not like this.

When he relinquished her, she opened her eyes slowly. Lazily, her mouth quirked into a half-smile. Her eyes were bright, her face flush with so many unreadable emotions. And her voice was uncertain as she tried to mock him. "Is that your irrevocable proof, Shinomori? A simple kiss? Well then, we should be leaving then for you're wasting your very breath--"

He found himself reveling in it -- the disdain in her voice and the pride – the proof that Megumi Takani wasn't cold and defeated inside.

"Aa." He interrupted her by turning her around, pressing her against the door, and eliciting a surprised laugh. "You are no more cold than I," his mouth was already moving in to silence her again, his hands alternating between helping her untie the infernal knots of her obi, and holding her as she trembled again this time, but this time not in sickness or fear. "I didn't come to these mountains for Kenshin," he whispered against her lips , recalling what she had said earlier.

"I know," she admitted finally as she kissed _him_. "I know," she laughed a few blissful moments later as she breathed great free breaths as he had divested her of everything she wore and she grasped the front of his coat desperately.

"Still, it's very unfair—"

"Unfair?" He quirked his eyebrow at her.

"Unfair," her eyes open and shut lazily as her fingers started to pull at the shirt, and free it from its ordered state. He barely could keep his thoughts straight and ordered enough to not drop her as he lay the trenchcoat and her on the floor of the shelter.

She smiled up at him victoriously as her fingers finally slid underneath the rough fabric and slid inside. "I'm very cold and you won't share your shirt."

"I'll share the shirt," he answered darkly. "I'll share everything," he added before he let her pull him to her and silence him.

o-o-o-o

She was smiling as he finally drew himself beside her and rested his head against her shoulder. "Are you cold?" he asked her quietly in her ear.

"No," she blushed slightly, as she recalled the past few hours. "I would say… not."

He chuckled, and she frowned. Her mouth opened to probably tell him something insulting, but he had quickly learned that it could be silenced with a kiss. Instead she pouted slightly, but allowed him to move to cover her with his clothing. "It's raining again," he sighed.

Her eyes grew bright with amusement, as her fingers tapped lightly against the scars on his chest. "It's rather late to head back to Kyoto."

"Yes," he answered somewhat dryly. "And if the rain continues, it may be days before we can return." He looked down at her as she clutched his shirt to her, his mouth quirking into something resembling a smile. "I hope you aren't disappointed to not be leaving Kyoto so soon."

"Disappointed?" Her resulting laughter was exultant. "I'm certain you can ease that disappointment, then Shinomori. That is, if you think it worthwhile and if you are up to that challenge."

"Aa." He looked at her and her smiling face, contriving innumerable ways to keep her satisfied, and more importantly… from ever leaving him.

* * *

Author's notes: I am putting this fic into a slightly better place to go into hiatus if ever need be. Of course, I still think I'm being evil here by throwing something like this at you all. heh. heh. heh. 

BTW crazy Meg/Aoshi writers who are interested in participating in our next Roundrobin should look at my profile for info on a few webpage/community updates. Thanks!


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